


Finding the Perfect Ring

by Dark_rune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_rune/pseuds/Dark_rune
Summary: Dean is trying to find the perfect ring for Cas.  It has to be something special.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	1. Trouble Finding Help

“Hey, Sammy.”

A long sigh came from the other room. “What?”

“Do you think gold or platinum looks better?”

“What? Why?”

Dean sighed this time. “Just answer the question. Do you think gold looks better than platinum? What about tungsten?”

“What is this all about?” Sam’s heavy footsteps were heard before he entered the room. “Why do you care about metals?” 

Sam took one look at the computer and swore loudly. “Hell no. I am not doing this again Dean.”

Dean had several tabs open on his computer. All of them showed rings. Gold rings. Silver rings. Platinum rings. Plain bands. Braided bands. Some set with gemstones. He’d even found some tungsten rings, though he wasn’t entirely sure what those would be like.

“We did this for weeks, Dean. Weeks! I can’t do it again.” Sam raked his fingers through his hair. “What’s wrong with the one you bought already?”

Dean glanced down at the small box next to the computer. A simple gold band stared back. It was a nice enough looking ring. It was plain and simple. Like he was. Nothing fancy. Didn’t pretend to be anything it wasn’t. But it wasn’t good enough. It was a ring that was good enough for Dean, but not for Cas. Cas deserved better.

“It’s not good enough Sam. I want something special for him.”

“Fine. This is the last time I’m helping you with this though” Sam sighed and looked over the rings on the page. “Personally, I like the platinum over the gold. Tungsten is nice, but heavy. I don’t like the stones, but Cas might.” 

“Thanks.” Dean closed a few of the tabs. Sam’s assessment had agreed with his own. After a moment’s thought he closed some of the pictures showing braided bands. He didn’t like the way they curved around.

“I mean it Dean,” Sam told him. “This is the last time. No more questions about rings or I am going to stab you.”

“Yeah whatever, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam called over his shoulder as he left Dean to his research.

*******

Dean’s phone chimed. He picked it up and saw a message from Charlie.

CHARLIE: There is an email from you with several attachments. They look like pictures. Are they pictures Dean?

DEAN: Yeah. A few pictures I want your opinion on.

CHARLIE: Are these rings again? 

DEAN: They are. I really need your help on this. I can’t decide.

CHARLIE: I’ve helped you. We’ve all helped you. You picked a ring already Dean. Use it. Cas will love it.

DEAN: It’s not good enough. I need a better one. Tell me what you think of those.

CHARLIE: I am deleting that email. If you send me another picture of a ring you will regret it. Any ring at all. 

CHARLIE: And I’m including the One Ring in that too. I’m serious Dean.

DEAN: Come on. You’re my friend, you have to help.

CHARLIE: I will crash your internet. 

DEAN: You wouldn’t dare.

CHARLIE: I’ll leave you trapped with no internet and Sam. 

DEAN: Fine. No more ring pictures.

********

The phone rang twice before Jody’s voice came on the line.

“Sheriff Mill’s office.”

“Hey, Jody.”

“Dean….” Jody sounded wary over the phone.

“I need your opinion on som…”

*click*

******

The phone rang once and clicked over to voicemail. 

“You’ve reached Claire. Leave a message.”

Dean hung up. It was the third time the call had skipped to voice mail after a single ring. Claire wasn’t going to help him either.

*******

Garth picked up after the fourth ring. He sounded a little out of breath. 

“Dean!” The man exclaimed. “Good to hear from you.”

“Hi Garth. I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Well, it’s not a great time right now Dean,” Garth started. 

There was a scuffling sound on the other end of the phone and some mumbled talk that Dean couldn’t make out.

A woman’s voice came on. “Hi Dean. This is Bess. I know Garth would love to help you with whatever you need, but he’s busy right now. If he blows off date night one more time he’s a dead man. I hope it all works out for you.”

The line went dead.

*****

“Come on Donna. Pick up.” Dean paced around his room while the phone rang a third time.

“Heya Dean. What can I do you for?” Donna always sounded perky on the phone.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at her greeting and didn’t try to keep it out of his voice. “Hi Donna. Glad you picked up. Everyone else seems to be ignoring me.”  
“Less ignoring and more actively avoiding Dean.” Donna laughed. “I know all about the calls to Jody. She’s right worked up over it. I’d watch your back the next time you’re over there for dinner.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dean promised. “She might get me with poison in her stuffing though. She knows I can’t say no to that.”

“It’s her roast chicken that would get me,” Donna admitted. “But whattcha calling for? I know already, but you’re gonna say it out loud.”

“It’s the ring thing again. Or still really. I can’t find the right one.”

“What’s wrong with the one you and I picked out already?” Donna asked. “You liked it well enough in the store.”

“It’s good enough for me, but not for Cas. He deserves something special. Something unique.” Dean sighed. 

“Oh Dean. You’re over thinking this. He’s going to love it because you gave it to him. That’ll make it special.”

“It needs to be perfect,” Dean argued. 

“Could get it engraved,” she offered. “A quote or something special that way. Or you could find someone to make a ring just for him. Couldn’t get more unique than that.”

“I know a lot of people Donna. But most of them are better at stopping mummies than making rings.”

“Like the shuffling corpses from Egypt? How do you stop those?”

“Brendan Fraser usually.”

“Ooohh, I wanna go on that hunt.”

Dean laughed. “Thanks Donna.”

“No problem. Call anytime. But you’re limited to one call a week about rings. I loved shopping with you, but a girl has to talk about other things too.”


	2. A Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean still can't find the inspiration he needs for a ring. Sam distracts him with a hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went longer than I'd intended, but I didn't want to break before the woods. I've also realized I am terrible at naming things. Takes me forever and I'm never completely satisfied with chapter titles or the like. *shrugs* Oh well, it's posted now. Hope you enjoy it.

Dean tossed down his pencil and shoved the notepad away from him. He took a swig from his beer while he contemplated his work. It wasn’t very good. He’d tried to get his ideas down on the page, but it wasn’t working. It was difficult for him to even form what the ideas were when they were in his head. It was damn near impossible to get them to make sense with his poor drawing skills. The nicest thing he could say about it was that the drawings sort of looked like rings. If you squinted and were a bit drunk. 

Scrawled around the poorly drawn ring designs were several quotes, phrases and just single words. They were usually written out a few times. Once in English and then in any number of languages, both living and dead. He knew that sometimes words just sounded better in a language like French than they did in English. None of them really felt right. The Egyptian hieroglyphs for ‘beloved’ were close, but still not exactly right. He hadn’t even bothered with Enochian. His hands always cramped up badly when he tried. 

He took another drink from his beer and contemplated calling Charlie. Begging for help on this. She drew all the time and it always looked effortless when she did it. Images just sort of gliding onto the page. He knew she practiced a lot, but she made it look so damn easy. But Charlie was off limits right now. Asking for her help on drawing would lead her to ask what the drawing was for. And admitting that the help was for making a ring for Cas would probably lead to vengeance. And the current threat was his internet crashing. Charlie wasn’t one to make empty threats so Dean decided to leave her alone about this. At least for now. If he got desperate enough he might still call. 

Dean was lost in his musings and didn’t hear Sam walk in. He started when his brother plopped a laptop between him and his notebook. Dean caught the glance Sam gave the notebook. He also caught the rolling of eyes. 

“I think I found a case.”

A blog article was pulled up about a town called Cladfield. The first few lines described a fairly idyllic town. Not a huge place, only about 1500 people and was predominately a farming community. Pleasant people. Apparently, because of the forests to the east of town, it also had amazing sunrises. The article started to talk about a musical festival before Dean gave up.

“Okay, what is this? How is a music festival in the middle of nowhere a case?”

“The author gets a little wordy going on about the town, I think she might be a bit of a music fan,” Sam explained. “But later in the article she talks about how the festival might not happen this year because a number of the local musicians have come down with aphagia.”

“Apha-what?”

“Aphagia. It’s a form of brain damage that interferes with the ability to communicate. You can’t speak properly. You can’t even use sign language. Sometimes they just get words mixed up, but these people seem to have it bad.” Sam pulled the computer toward him and sat down. Dean briefly wondered why he bothered putting it anywhere else to begin with. 

“Okay, so what causes aphagia,” Dean drew the word out to irritate his brother.

Sam gave the expected response of bitch-face before turning back to the computer. “It’s usually caused by a stroke or some other trauma to the brain.” He typed for a few moments and pulled up another page. “I looked up some of the musicians that were mentioned in the article and most of them are young. They shouldn’t be having strokes. And it’s weird that eight to ten people would all have a stroke at the same time. And that the stroke would cause the exact same type of damage.”

“Could be poisoning of some kind. Something in the water,” Dean offered. 

“Maybe, but it doesn’t look like any non-musician has been affected.”  
“So what are you thinking?” Dean asked. “A Muse maybe?”

Sam shook his head. “Probably not. A muse would likely want the festival to go forward. Stopping the arts doesn’t really match what we know about them. Maybe a witch?”

“Could be. Someone pissed of a local housewife and she puts the whammy on the musicians as revenge.” Dean finished his beer. “Or maybe a cursed object of some kind.”

“I think there are some witch killing bullets in the Impala. I’ll check on those and make more if we need them.” Sam stood and closed his laptop. “See if you can find a carrying case for a cursed object.”

Dean stood and closed his notepad. He was surprised at the restraint Sam had shown by not poking fun of him for it. He wasn’t grateful enough to say anything, but he was surprised. Once the notepad was safely stowed in his room he went in search of a carrying case. Something that would fit an object of unknown size and weight. 

*******

The article hadn’t sold Cladfield short. It seemed like a genuinely nice place to live. The town was pretty and well maintained. It was old and there were clear signs of repair on many of the buildings, but it was very clean. The people were friendly too. An old man sitting on a park bench just people watching was more than pleased to give them directions around town. Along with some advice about who around town served the best coffee, the best pie and the worst sandwiches. He provided them with a short list of sites they really should see around town before they left. And even gave the location of the best fishing hole in the county. He used to fish there, but he didn’t go much any more because of his arthritis. 

They chatted with the old man, who turned out to be named Chester, for a few more minutes about the town. Eventually Dean brought them around to the musicians.   
The old man had grown quiet at that.

“Simon was my friend. Great guy. Bit nutty about his music, but he was an artist.” He smiled wistfully. “I think all artists have to be a bit nutty. Damn, I’m going to miss that man.”

“What happened to Simon?” Sam asked. The article had been a few days old, but everyone was still alive when it was written.

“He died three days ago. Had some kind of seizure I think and his heart just wouldn’t take it I guess.” Chester shrugged. “He never really took any of the advice of Doc. Harris all that serious. He went for walks all the time, but he didn’t do anything for his blood pressure. Hated taking pills that man.” Chester choked. “Bastard. Should have listened to her. She’s been caring for me for years and has never steered me wrong.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam offered. “Is there somewhere we could pay our respects?”

Chester waved him off. “Funeral was yesterday, so you missed your chance there. Guess you could go to the cemetery directly if you really wanted to.” 

“Thanks, we’ll do that,” Dean told him.

“Or you could talk to his daughter Barb. It’ll be hard on her, she and Simon were as close as a daughter and father could be.” Chester pointed down the street. “She works the desk at the clinic. Doc. Harris finally got her to go home this morning. She’s as stubborn as her father was. Lives on the edge of town.” Chester gave them directions and told them that Barb should be home now.

They thanked Chester for the conversation and promised him that they’d visit the restaurants he had recommended before they left town. 

*******  
With Chester’s directions, Dean and Sam were able to find Barb’s house with no difficulty. She lived in a large two- story home with an attached garage and a large detached garage nearby. A heavier set man in his early forties was sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette. He gave them a questioning look when they pulled up.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” 

“Agents Barns and Koll.” Dean and Sam flashed their fake badges. “We were hoping to talk with Barb.”

“I’m her husband, Greg” the man told them. “She’s inside resting right now. I don’t know how Doc Harris did it, but she managed to send Barb home for the day. If this isn’t hugely important I’d prefer if you didn’t disturb her. What’s this about?”

“Just a few questions about what’s happened to your father in-law,” Sam explained. “We saw the papers and thought it was a bit odd that so many people came down with the same symptoms.”

“Are you suggesting someone killed Pops?” Greg asked.

“No. We don’t think anything suspicious is going on,” Dean said. “Just wanted to ask a few questions if we could. Sometimes things like this can be used as case studies for new recruits. We don’t want to waste your time though.”

Greg chuckled. “Actually, I think Pops might have liked that. He loved teaching. I’ll try to answer your questions.”

“That would be appreciated,” Dean said and pulled out a notepad. “Did your father in-law have any health issues?”

“A few actually. High blood pressure and cholesterol. Some heart issues,” Greg stubbed his cigarette out and put it in a small can next to the steps. “He didn’t really take his health all that serious. He only went on his walks because they helped him think for his music. The only time he went to see the doctor was when Barb made him. Never took his medication though. Hated pills.”

“Did he act unusual in the days leading up to his symptoms first developing?”

“Nope, not at all,” Greg said. “He had a pretty regular schedule. He’d take a walk in the woods in the woods if the weather permitted. Then practice in his studio for a few hours. He’d meet with his students after lunch and might have some more solo practice after supper.” 

“Did any of his students develop the same symptoms?”

“You’ve read the papers, so you know that already,” Greg sighed. “Everyone else who came down with whatever this is, was a student of Pop. The doctor said all the toxicology screens came back negative for any sort of poison. Still not sure what happened.”

“Were all of his students from the local community?”

“Yeah. It was a bit of an ego boost for him to take you on as a student. Meant you had some real musical talent.” Greg laughed. “He laughed in my face when I asked if he could teach me how to play the guitar. Brought it up for years afterward. I think he thought it was the funniest thing I’d ever said.”

“Did you get along with him?” Sam asked. “Any hard feelings between you two?”

“A long time ago maybe. He thought I wasn’t good enough for his daughter. Took him awhile to realize I agreed with him. Took us both even longer to realize Barb didn’t care what either one of us thought on the matter.”

“Sounds like she’s a good woman,” Dean said. 

“Far better than I deserve,” Greg replied. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“I hope either my partner or I get that lucky,” Sam nudged Dean.

“Is there anything else?” Greg asked. “I promised Barb I’d cut back on my smoking and the longer I’m out here talking the greater the chance of me lighting up another.”

“Wouldn’t want to put you on her bad side,” Dean said. “Would it be possible to take a look at the studio?”

“Sure,” Greg started walking toward the detached garage. “Just don’t touch anything. Barb was cleaning in there yesterday after the funeral and knocked a few things over. She isn’t sure if she broke anything or not. She’s trying to sleep off a headache right now and will be pissed if someone messes this places up before she gets back to it.”

Greg opened a side door into the garage and flicked the light on. The inside of the garage had been converted into a roomy studio. The far wall was covered in instruments of all kinds. Some of them looked quite old, but all looked well cared for. There were shelves filled with books and small gadgets. A pile of metal rods lay the desk next to a violin.

Dean and Sam spent a few moments looking around the studio. The books on the shelves were about musical history and theory. Not surprising in a studio like this. Some of the instruments looked quite old, but well maintained. They showed signs of wear and were likely still played. The only gadget on the shelves Dean recognized was a metronome. The rest could have been doomsday devices for all he knew. The pile on the desk was a collection tuning forks. Like the instruments a few of them seemed old, but functional.

Nothing in the studio seemed weird. No hex-bags. Nothing remotely occult. No obviously cursed items. Sam shrugged at Dean as they stepped out of the garage.

“Thank you for your time Greg,” Sam said as they exited. “Do you think any of the students might be willing to meet with us?”

Greg shrugged. “Maybe. I can make a few phone calls and have them get in touch with you if they’re willing to. Or if their parents or spouses are. I don’t think any of them can talk straight right now.”

Dean handed him a card with two numbers on it. “That would be great.”

*******  
Chester’s recommendations had been spot on. The coffee at the small restaurant served great coffee. The sandwiches could be politely referred to as terrible. Sam mused that it might be the bread, but Dean just pushed his aside and ordered the pie. The pie lived up to Chester’s praise.

Sam’s phone rang while they were waiting for the leave. He left to answer it while Dean went up to pay. A shabby looking young man saddled up to him while he was waiting for the waitress to come over and cash him out.

“Hey, ah, hey man,” the guy stuttered out. “You one of them? ‘cause if you are you can’t do anything to me now. I got rid of your weapon. Can’t hurt anyone now.”   
The guy didn’t look dangerous, but Dean figured laughing at him probably wouldn’t help matters. Dean stared back with his deadpan look instead. Let the guy just talk himself out. “Your weapon is gone now so you can’t hurt anyone ever again.” The guy looked toward Dean’s face, but didn’t make eye contact. “You should just go back home now. Leave us humans alone. Just go away.”

The waitress chose that moment to come over. “Shoo, Jimmy. Leave that man alone. He isn’t an alien or whatever’s bothering you this week. Go sit down. Your brother will be off work soon.” She pointed to a booth near the back of the restaurant. “I’ll bring you some pie and coffee. Just behave yourself.”  
Dean watched the guy slink away mumbling to himself. 

“Sorry about that,” The waitress apologized. “Jimmy can get worked up when he sees new people.”

“No problem,” Dean told her. “Is he one of the music teacher’s students?”

“No, Jimmy doesn’t play any instruments,” the waitress told him. “His wife died during childbirth a few years back. Baby didn’t make it either. He took to drink after that. Drank a lot and fell down a lot. Ended up in the hospital more often than not. After he fell down a flight of stairs he put himself into a coma. When he woke up he was like this. Muddled in the head. His brother takes care of him as best he can.” She pointed back toward the kitchen. “His brother works in the kitchens here. Jimmy’s a nice enough guy, but he’s always coming up with wild stories. Usually involving aliens. A few weeks ago it was all about aliens in the woods and how Jimmy had saved everyone by stealing a weapon and throwing it away.” She laughed. “Harmless, but he does get freaked out by new faces.”

“No harm done,” Dean told her. “Glad to know he’s being taken care of.” As he left he thought about heading over to talk to Jimmy, but he probably wouldn’t get any new information and would most likely just upset the guy. 

“That was the father of one of the students,” Sam told him when Dean met him outside the restaurant. “Says he’s willing to let one of us meet with his daughter for a little bit.”

“Just one us?” Dean said. “How about you go do that and I’ll check out the woods. A local was carrying on about aliens in the woods a few weeks ago. Probably nothing but vapors, but Greg said the music teacher went walking in the woods. Might turn something up. It’ll give me something to do while you talk to his girl.” He paused a moment. “Or at her I guess. I don’t know how an interview goes when one of the people can’t answer.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

******

The woods were peaceful. A few birds chirping here and there, but no real noise otherwise. Even the distant hum of the highway wasn’t audible here. The paths looked like a great place to take the family dog for a walk. Sam would probably want to go jogging here. There didn’t seem to be any hikers out, or dogs either. At least Dean didn’t see any. Even though he was technically working, Dean found himself enjoying the afternoon sun. He was glad he’d changed before heading into the woods.

He hiked along the trails for about two hours before he considered calling it quits for the day. He’d walked along most of the main trail as best he could tell. It curved around on itself several times and if it weren’t for the various large rocks jutting out of the ground he’d have never realized he was doubling back on himself. Dean hadn’t actually expected to find anything in the woods. Jimmy didn’t seem like the most reliable source, but he’d kind of hoped something would turn up to explain the death of Simon or whatever was happening to his students. 

Dean began walking back toward the Impala and let his mind drift. His thoughts wandered toward the ring he still didn’t have for Cas. Or the design he still didn’t have for the ring for Cas. He had tried finding inspiration during the hike, but nothing had really came together for him. In his frustration he picked up a small rock and threw it at a large rock formation. The rock connected with a satisfying thud.

“OW!”

The rock formation began to rapidly unfold itself and turned toward Dean. A huge arm came down to the ground and pushed a rocky body up into a standing position. When fully upright it looked like a large stone statue. It towered several feet over Dean and stared at him with dull stony eyes. Despite appearing to be made of stone the rock man’s beard and long hair shifted as it stood up. Dean swore he could heard stone grating against stone as the hair moved.

“Aw fuck. A troll.”


	3. Not a Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt continues and Dean finds an ally in his quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now royally pissed with myself. I used the wrong term. I had used 'aphagia' which is the inability to swallow. I had meant to use 'aphasia' which is the inability to comprehend or use language properly. I'm sorry about that guys. I hope the story is enjoyable regardless of the mistake.
> 
> That aside, I hope you guys are enjoying the story. It's been fun writing it. I find it a bit weird that I've basically had two points in the story in my mind and now I'm just desperately trying to connect those two moments.

“TROLL?!?” The rock man bellowed. 

The sheer volume of the rock man’s outburst caused Dean to take several steps backward and trip. His teeth clicked together when his ass connected with the ground. The rock man looked both angry and insulted. Dean had never thought stone could convey those emotions.

“TROLL! I AM NO TROLL!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dean scuttled backward away from the angry rock man. Whatever this was it wasn’t a troll. Which was probably a good thing, he had no idea how to deal with a troll. Didn’t sunlight kill them?

“I am no troll human.” The rock man had stopped yelling, but was still speaking forcefully. “My kind had master metal craft long before those foul creatures had learned to stand.” The rock man shook his head and the rough sound of stones scraping against stone were audible as its hair shifted along its shoulders. “The indignity of a dwarf being cared with such filth.”

“Dwarf?” Dean said before he could stop himself. “Like Gimli?”

“Who in the Nine Realms is Gimli?” The dwarf asked. 

“Um…I don’t think it matters,” Dean said. 

“Perhaps it does,” the dwarf pressed. “I would know who are the allies of a human who would attack helpless travellers.”

“Traveller?” Dean questioned. He didn’t add ‘helpless?’ and was proud of himself.

“Yes, I came here to collect bark for a spear I was commissioned to make,” the dwarf gestured at a medium sized rock near where he had been sitting. It took Dean a moment to realize it was a sack.

“I don’t know much about dwarves, very little really,” Dean said. “But does everything you own look like it’s made of stone?”

“No human, everything does not.” The dwarf rumbled a sigh. “I do not belong here in Midgard. I belong home in my forge. This realm is killing me. I wish only to return to Nidavellir.”

“Why not just leave then?”

“You are not a very bright human are you?” The dwarf squinted at Dean. “Would I stay here slowly turning to stone if I could leave when I wished? No! I am trapped here because another of your kind stole my key.”

“What did they look like?”

“He moved with purpose,” the dwarf said. “I did not see him clearly, but while I was gathering bark he snatched my key and ran away. He taunted me by saying that I couldn’t hurt humanity with my ‘death ray’. He said other things as he ran, but most of it made no sense.”

“Damnit Jimmy,” Dean muttered. “He said he threw your weapon away.”

“It is not a weapon human, it is a key,” the dwarf clarified. “It does not belong here any more than I do. It is dangerous to mortals.”

“What kind of key kills people?” Dean asked. “Actually, never mind. If you take it and go home will the damage it’s done go away?”

“I am not sure,” the dwarf admitted. “This has never happened before. I can only promise more mortals will not be affected by it.”

“Good enough,” Dean sighed. “What does this thing look like?”

*******

“A dwarf? Like Gimli?”

“Nothing like Gimli,” Dean told Sam over the phone. “Nothing at all. He’s huge, over ten feet tall and turning to stone slowly. Apparently just being here is killing him.”

“Where’s home?”

“Nedville or something like that,” Dean said. “He says his key isn’t good for humans. It’s probably what killed Simon and is messing the others up.”

“Nidaviller? It’s one of the nine realms from Norse lore.” Sam had slipped into lecture mode. “He’s a long way from home. Anything that could make a door to another realm of existence is probably going to have some bad effects on humans. Where did he put his key?”

“I’m pretty sure that guy from the diner stole it,” Dean told him. “Said he threw it away though, so it’s somewhere in the woods.”

“Do you even know what this key looks like?”

“He said it was a forked metal rod about the length of my forearm.” Dean unlocked the Impala and climbed in. “Made of some kind of metal that looks like bronze.  
I’m at the Impala. I’m coming to get you and we can look for this thing together. I didn’t see anything like it while I was hiking, but it has to be there somewhere.”

“Dean, it’s probably not in the woods anymore,” Sam told him. “My bet is it’s in the music studio, or at least it was. The only people affected so far were Simon and his students. Simon probably found the key and brought him back with him. Go to the studio. I’ll meet you there.” Dean hung up and pulled out of the little parking area next to the woods. He was pretty sure that Simon had taken a footpath here for his walks, but he didn’t know where it was and didn’t want to waste time looking for it. The studio was less than a ten-minute drive away. 

Driving always relaxed Dean and he did some of his best thinking while behind the wheel. He’d spent the entire drive to Cladfield thinking about Cas’ ring. Now that he was back behind the wheel his mind drifted to rings again. He had hoped he would have thought of something by now, but he was still coming up blank.  
He’d been driving for about five minutes when he found himself thinking about different metals for the ring. The gold and silvers had been replaced by the burnished look of bronze. He didn’t really care for the idea. It was too muted in colour and he felt that bronze always looked like it needed to be cleaned. Any ring he got was going to have to last a long time, so something that would tarnish like bronze wouldn’t work. 

When he pulled up to the studio he realized why he had been thinking about bronze so much. It wasn’t just because the dwarf had mentioned it. He’d seen old bronze earlier today. His phone rang.

“A tuning fork,” Sam rushed. “It’s one of the tuning forks.”

“Yeah, I just realized that myself,” Dean said. “I’m at the studio so I’m going to get it. Should probably wrap it in something so I don’t hit it on anything. I think it’s the sound that’s messing people up.”

“I’m on my way to the studio now,” Sam said. He sounded a little out of breath. “Probably going to have to walk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. “I’ll get the fork and take it to the woods and then come get you.”

Dean hung up as he got out of the Impala. Greg’s car was gone. The front door to the house opened as he walked toward the studio. A small blonde woman stepped out. At first glance she looked to be in her late thirties. She stared at him for a moment.

“Peacock?”

Dean blinked back at her. “I’m sorry?”

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Peacock,” she repeated. She shook her head and tried again. “Peacock.” 

“Are you okay?”

“Blue,” she almost wailed.

Dean’s eyes widened. “You must be Barb. I spoke with your husband Greg earlier. I think I can help.”

Barb closed her eyes again and took several deep breaths. With a great deal of effort she managed to squeeze out, “Please.”

“I need to take something from your father’s studio.”

Barb nodded. “Vodka. Fuck.” She started to cry. 

Dean moved toward the studio. If this was on TV it would be funny. Seeing someone struggle for words and know they were saying the wrong ones wasn’t funny. He tried the door and found it locked. He glanced back at Barb. “I’m sorry,” and kicked in the door.

The pile of tuning forks was still on the table. He could even see the burnished bronze of the one that was probably causing the problem. The problem was it was buried and getting it out would make noise. He could wrap them, but he still might drop one. 

“Shit. I need to get the bronze tuning fork, but it’s going to make a lot of noise.” He looked over at Barb who had followed him into the studio. “The sound is dangerous. You should go back into the house so you don’t hear it.”

Barb shook her head and walked over to one of the shelves and took down a pair of headphones. She handed them to Dean and gestured to him to put them on. He slid them on and the world went silent. He watched her take an old jacket from behind the door. She walked over to the table and pointed at the bronze tuning fork. 

“Yes,” Dean said. “That’s the one. The bronze one buried near the bottom. He was pretty sure he said it a lot louder than was needed.  
She pulled the fork out and Dean watched several of the other forks tumble aside. It must have made an awful racket. She wrapped the bronze fork into the jacket and pushed it into Dean’s arms. She said something that Dean couldn’t hear. Judging by the pained look on her face the words were not what she had meant to say.

“I’ll bring the jacket back” Dean promised. “And the headphones.”

Barb gave him a shove and he ran for the door.

*******

“I can’t hear you,” Dean said as he approached the dwarf. He thought he was yelling again, but couldn’t stop himself. He unwrapped the tuning fork from the jacket. “Is this your key?” 

The dwarf nodded and reached to take the tuning fork. Dean held it out and stepped back. The dwarf pulled a pouch off his belt and slipped the key inside. He started saying something.

“……you return already.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean said. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“You deafened yourself?” The dwarf asked. “A clever precaution.”

“Only temporarily,” Dean told him. “I didn’t hear what you said just now.”

“I said that you work very fast human. The sun has not even set and you have returned already.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been away from home long enough,” Dean said. “Thought you might want to sleep in your own bed. Besides, I owe you for throwing a rock at you.”

“True, you did insult me by calling me a troll.” The dwarf touched the pouch with the key in it. “But you have given me my home back human. Such an act far exceeds the debt created by an insult. I will not leave these scales unbalanced. I owe you a boon. What would you ask of me? If I can provide it I shall.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Dean said. “Just glad to help.”

“I must insist,” the dwarf said. “My honour demands it. I would not have others say I was not grateful for your actions. Please, ask.”

“I guess,” Dean said. “You said you were here to get bark for a spear. Do you only make weapons, or do you make other things?”

“I make many things. Spears that sing when the Valkyries wield them over the battlefields. Harps that enchant all who listen. Armours that would turn aside any blade. What would you have?”

“A ring.”

“A ring?” The dwarf asked.

“I want to give the man I love a ring that shows him how special he is to me. Something unique.”

“I know little of love,” The dwarf said. “But I am told that the gift matters less than the intent.”

“I know, but I want it to show how he means to me. I’m no good with words.”

“Ah, perhaps I can help.” The dwarf crouched down and looked Dean in the eye. They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time. “I can help you human. But I need something from you to do it.”

“Name it.”

“A drop of your blood. To be as special as you wish it to be, this ring must include something of yourself.” The dwarf pulled a small stone vial from another of the pouches on his belt. “I will craft you a ring that none has seen before.”

Dean drew a line on his forearm with his knife. He bled a little into the stone vial and replaced the knife into his belt sheath. As he pushed a tissue against the wound he thought about how mad his father would be about giving his blood like this. Dean didn’t care, as long as it gave him a ring worth of Cas.

The dwarf straightened up. “Be here in three days. Before sunrise on the third day. I will have your ring ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't come across as using aphasia as a comedic tool. Not my intent. What Barb was going through would have been awful and I hope that is how I portrayed it. 
> 
> Next chapter the ring itself. I've been looking forward to this.


	4. The Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally finds the ring he's been looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny scene to go. I didn't want to add it in here, so I'll write it up and post it later.

Dean took a sip of his coffee and settled down onto a rock. Dawn was another hour off and it was still very dark in the woods. It was also a little colder than he’d expected. He pulled his jacket closer around him and took another sip of coffee. He looked at his watch. It had only been two minutes since he’d last looked. Waiting had never been Dean’s strong suit. He preferred action over patience. At least he knew this wait had a limit to it. Only another 57 minutes until dawn.   
He had almost finished his coffee when he heard a rustling across the path from where he sat. The sky was still dark and Dean expected the pre-dawn light to begin showing soon. He shone his flashlight over to where he thought the sound was coming from. 

The roots of one of the larger trees were twisting around themselves and the rubbing was what created the sound he’d heard. They shifted over each other and appeared like they were braiding themselves. The roots pushed upward. And upward. And upward. Dean watched as the roots pushed up to over six feet. They had formed a crude archway. 

The darkened space inside the archway rolled in on itself and Dean was suddenly felt a blast of heat. There was a large room made of stone on the other side of the archway. He heard the clanging of metal against metal.

“Come human,” the dwarf’s voice rumbled from the other side. Dean couldn’t see him, but it sounded like the dwarf was off to one side just out of view. “your ring awaits.”

Dean set his coffee on the rock and stood up. “Sammy is never going to believe this,” he said quietly to himself.

It was a jarring transition to step from the cold and darkened woods into a room that was warm. It wasn’t brightly lit, but the warm glow of the many forges shed enough light that Dean could make out the details in the stonework of the floor and walls. The room was huge with a high vaulted ceiling overhead. Multiple forges were set against the walls and each seemed to have something either in progress or ready to start. At least a dozen tables were scattered around the room. Each was heaped with raw materials or partially assembled items. 

Standing near one of the tables was the dwarf. He was just as tall as Dean remembered, but moving a lot more freely. His hair and beard were a deep brown and actually looked like hair. His clothing seemed to be made of leather, which was sensible given the risk of burns. Apparently being home was enough to reverse the petrification effect.

“I hope you will be as pleased with my work as I am,” the dwarf pointed to one of the tables. 

Space had been created in the piles of stone, wood, cloth and other materials that Dean couldn’t even guess at. Sat in the space was a small wooden box. Dean looked at the dwarf for confirmation before picking it up and opening it.

Nestled on a white cloth was a black band, though it might have been a very dark blue. The ring sparkled as Dean picked it up. The light of the forge caught tiny flakes of what he thought were pieces of gemstones. They appeared to shimmer as he turned it. The ring was very light, he barely even noticed it in his fingers. It seemed to pulse lightly as he turned it. 

“It’s beautiful,” he told the dwarf.

“Of course it is.” The dwarf scoffed. “No shoddy work has ever been made in this forge. Nor shall any ever be created here.”

“This is amazing,” Dean said. He tore his eyes away from the ring. “It’s perfect.”

“Not quite perfect,” the dwarf said. “But no mortal could create that ring. While he wears that ring, you will always be with your beloved. So long as your heart beats in your chest your beloved will feel it. You will be with him wherever he goes.”

“It’s perfect,” Dean repeated. “What did you make it from?”

The dwarf didn’t correct Dean a second time. “Look again and tell me what you think I have made it from.”

The light of the forges gave the ring a reddish glow as Dean turned it over. The flakes of gemstones seemed to fade at the same time. Dean blinked. It wasn’t a trick of the light. The ring actually was turning red. The band lightened to a deep pink and the flakes of gemstone had faded away entirely. A tiny spot of pure light appeared at the bottom of the ring and moved quickly across the band to disappear at the top. The pink faded away and Dean was holding a band of pure blue in his hands.

Dean gapped at the dwarf. 

“I forged it from the sky itself,” the dwarf said with pride. “Few could accomplish such a task.”

“I believe it,” Dean said softly. The ring was still blue, but not solid blue. Soft white spots drifted across its surface. He was looking at clouds. “Thank you. I couldn’t…..thank you. I never dreamed I’d find a ring this perfect.”

“You gave me my home again. It is I who should thank you.” The dwarf seemed uncomfortable with the praise. “You have a beloved to gift a ring to and I have other work to do.”

Dean nodded and replaced the ring in the box. He closed it tightly and put it into his pocket for a moment before deciding he would just hold it. He didn’t want to lose it. 

“Thank you again.” 

The dwarf nodded as Dean stepped back through the archway. The roots shifted around on themselves again and the whole thing sank back into the ground. When it was gone there was no sign the roots had ever moved. 

Once the arch was gone he realized he’d been standing in another realm. Sam was going to flip when he told him that. But all that could wait. He finally had a ring that was worthy of Cas.

********

Dean knew it was childish, but he couldn’t help but smirk as he hit send on the message.

DEAN: Found it. I found the perfect ring.

He set the phone down and went about setting the table. The phone chimed almost immediately. He ignored it until he was finished placing the cutlery.

CHARLIE: Finally. What does this oh so perfect ring look like?

DEAN: It just looks perfect. Wish you could see it.

CHARLIE: Send a picture you twit. Your phone can do that you know.

DEAN: You’ll crash my internet if I send you another picture of a ring. And this isn’t just a ring. It’s THE ring.

CHARLIE: That was for the ‘please help me pick a ring’ pictures. This is different.

DEAN: Can’t risk it. It’s too bad. This one makes the One Ring look like crap.

CHARLIE: Come on Dean.

Dean sent back a shrugging emoji and turned his phone off. He didn’t need the distraction. Cas was going to be home soon and dinner wasn’t quite ready. He wanted to shower too. Before he did that he just needed to get rid of Sam.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean called as he walked into the sitting area of the bunker. 

His brother had his feet propped up reading. “Yeah, what?”

“There’s a bookstore opening in town today.”

“And?” Sam asked. “It’s also pissing rain outside.”

“You should go. Now. Spend the night.”

“What? I can go tomorrow or the day after,” Sam told him. “When it isn’t raining.”

Dean sighed. “You need to leave so Cas and I can be alone. For alone time."

“What? Oh,” Sam sat up. “I didn’t need to know that Dean.” 

“Should have just left when I told you about the books Sammy.”

“Wait, are you going to..?” Sam left it hanging.

“Books, Sammy. All the books you want. Just go.”

********

“What is this all about Dean,” Cas asked as he was led to the table Dean had set up and covered with the fanciest tablecloth in the bunker. Turned out the Men of Letters like to dine fancy. A nice tablecloth, expensive looking dishes and even real silverware. 

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Dean told him as he guided the angel to his chair. He turned away to light the candles to hide the building anxiety. “I haven’t   
seen you in a week.”

“We have gone longer without seeing each other,” Cas pointed out. “But thank you. This is very nice.”

Dean gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled a serving cart to the table. “For you, Cas, anything.”

The meal Dean had prepared was simple enough, a glazed chicken with some vegetables and rice, but he’d prepared everything himself. Even found a white wine to pair with the meal. He set the plate in front of Cas and pulled the lid off.

“I know you can’t really taste things like I can,” Dean said. “But I wanted to do something date like with you. I’ve always wanted to make you a meal like this.”

“I appreciate this Dean,” Cas told him. “I can’t taste it like you can, but I can taste the intent and emotions that went into making it. If a meal is made with love I can tell.” 

“Might taste a little worry in there too,” Dean joked. “I was a bit nervous when making it. Wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not.”

Cas picked up the bottle of wine from the cart and poured a glass for Dean. He poured himself a smaller glass. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The conversation flowed easily for a bit. Dean told Cas about the hunt, though he left the part about the ring out. He wanted to save that for later. He turned the conversation back to Cas and asked how his trip had been. 

It took him several moments to realize Cas had stopped speaking. 

“Dean?” Cas asked. “Is everything alright. You seem distracted. You haven’t touched much of your food.”

“I’m sorry Cas,” Dean apologized. “My mind wandered there. Won’t happen again.”

“If you are tired, perhaps you should rest. I can tell you about my trip later.”

“I’m not tired,” Dean assured him. “Just thinking about something. I want to hear about your trip.”

“Maybe we should talk about whatever is on your mind,” Cas said. “I don’t mind. I like talking with you.”

“I wanted to wait until after dinner for this, but I won’t be able to focus until I’ve done it.” Dean pushed back his chair to stand. “I’m not great at this stuff Cas. Sam’s right, I have the emotional range of a pet rock.”

“Rocks do not have emotions Dean.” Cas told him seriously. “Even if you glue those googly eyes on.”

Dean snorted. “Don’t ever change Cas.” He stood and began pacing. “I meant I don’t know how to relate to my emotions well. Or express them. I care for you. A lot. And I want to do right by you. I’m not a great boyfriend. I drink too much. I lash out easily. My body is slowly falling apart from all of the damage I’ve done to it throughout the years. There are better looking men out there. Funnier men. Smarter men.”

“Dean!” Cas cut him off. “I think I can get to decide if you are worthy of my time. Not you.”

“And I want to prove I’m worthy of you Cas.” Dean dropped to a knee in front of Cas and pulled the small wooden box from his pocket. He cracked the lid and presented it toward Cas. “Castiel, will you marry me?”

Cas flicked his gaze between the ring and Dean’s face. “I am confused Dean. I thought we were already a couple.”

“This is different,” Dean explained. “It’s a human thing. We are a couple, but being married means more. Means committing to stay by each other’s side no matter what.”

“We already do that Dean. I followed you into Hell.”

“This is more of a commitment for others to see too,” Dean said. “A marriage is a way of showing our friends and families how we feel about each other.”

“Oh,” Cas said. “Like a party?”

“Sort of, yeah,” Dean said. He shifted his position slightly. The floor was harder than he’d anticipated. He didn’t think he’d be done here this long. “So, do you want to marry me?”

“I do Dean,” Cas said. “I think I always have.”

Dean took the ring out and dropped the box to the floor. He pushed the dark grey band onto Cas’ finger. Tiny bolts of lighting flickered across the ring’s surface. He leaned up and kissed his boyfriend. No, he kissed his fiancé.


	5. Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas seeks the dwarf's expertise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done. Not a long piece here, but I didn't want to put it at the end of the last chapter.

The dwarf knew he was not alone before his guest spoke. His work called out to him. In a room of a thousand identical swords, he could tell which was the one he had made. The ring sang to him.

“I was expecting you some time ago,” the dwarf said and turned to face his guest.

“I would have come sooner if I had known you were waiting for me,” Cas told him. “I apologize for making you wait Master Craftsman.”

“No need for apologizes,” the dwarf dismissed. “I had simply assumed you would have returned. You or your man.” He glanced Cas over. “Though, I suppose your kind could come here far easier than he could.”

“Do you also know why I’ve come?” Cas asked.

“I would guess that it has something to do with my imperfect work.”

Cas held up his hand and looked at the ring. The surface was a calm blue today. “There is nothing wrong with the ring craftsman. I’ve not seen its like before. It is perfect.”

“It is not perfect,” the dwarf said. “But it is close.”

“I wish you to make another,” Cas said. “One to match it so I may give it to Dean. If it must be as imperfect as this one, so be it. I will bring you rare ores and precious stones as payment.”

The dwarf snorted. “For this I will not charge you. Your man gave me my home back and I made him a ring to give to you. Your man saved my life and I will make you a ring to give to him. My debt will be paid. Moreover, I can create perfection. No craftsman would ever turn down that opportunity."

“You insist this ring is imperfect,” Cas said. “There is no fault in it.”

“Your people are warriors,” the dwarf told him. “They are not craftspeople, they do not create. That ring is imperfect because it lacks a mate. Lovers come in pairs, and so should their rings.” The dwarf opened a box on his workbench. He pulled out a piece of sky already measured and cut. “Now, let me craft a ring to be the mate to the one you wear.”

**********

Three days later the dwarf finished the ring. It was a match in every way for the one Castiel already wore. 

"Now my work is perfect," the dwarf said with pride. He handed the ring over. "You will find none like this in all the realms."

Cas turned the ring over in his hands. The dwarf said it was perfect, but he knew deep down it wasn't. Not yet. It wouldn't be perfect until it Dean wore it.


End file.
